[Closed] My Veins are Busy (but your heart's in atrophy)[PV] - Rehearsal Room - Hogwarts.io

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3. Fourth Floor
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5. [Closed] My Veins are Busy (but your heart's in atrophy)[PV]
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Evpraksiya Vinogradova

Third year, Duellist, Writer, Slytherin

3 Oct 2024, 19:03

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2024. 10. 03 | Weekend| @Sandy Thompson....
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Franz Liszt's Liebestraum No. 3 in A-flat Major, Evpraksiya's practice

In the late afternoon, golden sunlight filtered through the large, decorated windows of the rehearsal room, spilling onto the sun-warmed stone. The space itself was as silent as the grave, a rare state considering its usual popularity among the artistically inclined students of Hogwarts. However, it wasn't completely empty—one student remained, alone in the stillness.

The first few notes she played were lost in the grand room's echo, soft, deliberate, and light.

Strands of blond hair had escaped the ribbon that bound her low ponytail, cascading past her shoulders and brushing near her hands as she leaned forward over the piano. Her green Sacramento eyes were closed, trusting in the muscle memory she'd honed through endless hours of practice. Pale fingers moved fluidly, reacting on their own as they danced across the ivory keys.

For the youngest Vinogradova, there was always a moment when her thoughts ceased. The music consumed her, the notes blending seamlessly into one another as she launched into the first set of sharp arpeggios. She vaguely recalled the piece was inspired by a poem from Liszt's friend, O Lieb, so lang du lieben kannst— Oh Love, as Long as You Can Love. There was something to be said about the transient nature of love in that piece, a fleeting thing to be cherished before the great beyond claimed everyone at the end of days.

The sentiment certainly resonated in the music. There was a certain longing in the melody, weaving through each note almost like a whispered confession. Evpraksiya could certainly appreciate the romantic sentiment woven so well into the complex notes. Each crescendo felt like an outpouring of affection, a reiteration from the poem it was based off on, an urgent plea to grasp love while it still lingered, while the softer, more delicate phrases seemed to almost mourn its fleeting nature.

But that was what Evpraksiya loved most about music—it was more than mere sound that vanished on the wind. It was her voice, a way to scream all the things polite society would never tolerate. It was the unasked questions that haunted her—why her parents never visited her as much as she'd wanted—and her constant companion when furious, silent tears ran down her cheeks in the dead of night as she locked herself inside her beloved music room.

With an instrument, she could say whatever she wanted.

(And maybe, just maybe, one day she'd be able to say it out loud.)

Last edited by Opeila Winters on 3 Oct 2024, 19:03, edited 1 time in total.

EVPRAKSIYA M. Y. VINOGRADOVA

❝The devil's voice is sweet to hear❞

xxx

STA 7 │ EVA 10 │ STR 0 │ WIS 8 │ ARC 5 │ ACC 10

LOVELY CREATURE

Second year, Gryffindor

20 Oct 2024, 06:14

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⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ | Redid The Layout... | ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

1:24 ───────────────────────●────────────────────────── -2:56

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

Love was commonplace, such a known thing. It was found everywhere, hidden deep in arguments, found in passions and hobbies, heard in the sounds of laughter. Sandy had grown up with it, seen it everywhere she went, and she adored it. Love was what humans were built upon, love was what they died with, and she believed that.

Every day, she drove herself with that belief. To love every second of her life, even the dullest of parts. To find love in the way people talked, acted, enjoyed themselves - She knew they all had love in them, and she was determined to find out just how they loved, each and every one. It wasn't a difficult task, an easy sight by just watching a game of sports or attending a concert, even if it wasn't particularly her genre. There was love in who attended and who played, and that was no different now-

-BUT she didn't like how fancy that all sounded, so she dumbed it down to one little key factor: People liked hobbies! And Sandy liked people!

With nothing more than a dream, two feet that hardly worked in sync with eachother, and a will to not fall over and scrape up her knees, Sandy walked onward. She searched for sound, scouting out anything that made her brain tingle in a somewhat positive way. It was a game for her, something like finding game after hunting trips, or winning at Jenga only to laugh in her brother's face.

Laughter was what she was expecting, conversation and easy talking. What she wasn't expecting was music.

If there was something Sandy loved, it was music. Unfortunately, if there was something she wasn't good at, it was also music. Having grown up around such a vast array of sound, hearing the loud punk music that blasted from Frazier's room or the heavy metal heard from the garage as her uncle Razz worked on a car, she was not a stranger to the music she liked and did not like. Despite this, music did not like her. Really, she was hopeless when it came to anything like it. Drums, guitar, even just blowing on the top of a glass bottle; All of it was hopeless. No matter how hard she tried, she just had no rhythm, no musical talent.

So maybe it was a bad idea to be driven to the sound, almost eating the ground on the way as she focused solely on the music. Maybe, just *maybe*, it was also a bit creepy to watch from the sidelines. Sandy found love in sound, and it was *everywhere* in this room, down to the singular frame that played on. Ever the attention-deficit girl, though, Sandy didn't spend all of her time focused on only the music. In fact, a lot of her attention was redirected to the one playing, eyes squinted to make out a proper appearance at her distance.

From the little bits Sandy could figure out, all she knew was that this girl was pretty. Stupidly pretty. And talented, which just added salt to the wound. It was hardly enough to just sit there and listen, resisting the urge to go closer to the sound in fear of pausing the music by her own wants. Frazier would have a field day with that, knowing that his sister acted like an idiot and scared off someone from enjoying the rest of their day.

No more than the spite of ignoring Frazier's cocky expression when she eventually spoke of that fictional experience, she stayed silent, oddly still aside from the subconscious movements that she made. Rolling on the balls of her feet, scratching the inside of her forearm, lightly digging her nails into the tanned skin to keep from fawning over the performance. It was peaceful, a soothing song in comparison to what she'd usually hear at home. Nothing like her and Atsumi's energetic pop music, that's for sure. Maybe a bit too passionate for some random stranger to be just awkwardly listening in on, but Sandy sure as hell wasn't focusing on that.

2:50 ────────────────────────────────────────────────●─ -2:56

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

INTERACTING: ev :3

Last edited by Sandy Thompson on 22 Jan 2025, 21:54, edited 1 time in total.

Evpraksiya Vinogradova

Third year, Duellist, Writer, Slytherin

11 Nov 2024, 23:41

Image posted by the member

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2024. 10. 3.| @Sandy Thompson....

xxxxxx
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xxxxxxxx𝕾vpraksiya closed the piano lid with a soft, definitive click, the sound reverberating through the empty room like the final word of a long and passionate argument. She stayed there, unmoving, fingertips resting on the polished wood, savoring the silence that followed her last note— thick and reverent, the silence in a church after the choir sings. The echoes of her music faded, hanging in the air like lingering smoke before dissolving into nothing. Only then did she lift her head, slowly, the angel of music in her chapel, her gaze drawn, almost unconsciously, toward the door.

She tilted her head slightly as she caught sight of a girl she vaguely recognized, seeing her in the hallways now and then: There, just within the room’s dim edge, stood a Gryffindor, slight and uncertain— a girl with sandy-colored hair, blending with the dull tones of the wooden door frame, her posture seemingly tentative. A delicate, almost invisible presence for the Slytherin not to have noticed her sooner. Evpraksiya might not have noticed her at all, had the lingering music not drawn her attention outward, a thread of spider’s silk floating in the still air, glistening in the faint light.

Pale blond hair that didn't seem washed out despite its light color, bright— almost too bright— blue eyes behind thick glasses, a constellation of freckles, and small imperfections on tan skin. The girl, Evpraksiya decided, would not last a day in high society. Not with her fidgeting, no, she wasn’t a pureblood. Or at the very least, not a prominent one. Evpraksiya raised a brow, a sweetly angelic grin playing delicately on baby pink lips as she took in the sight of the girl awkwardly shifting her weight from foot to foot, clearly enthralled by the music yet somehow as still as if she’d been glued to the spot. It was… oddly charming.

Perhaps it'd been too long since she'd played for an audience.

The youngest smiled, leaning onto her piano, A half-smile tugged at her lips as she tilted her head. ❝It's awfully hard to see you there, won't you please come closer?❞

said the spider to the fly.

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xxxxxx
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Last edited by Evpraksiya Vinogradova on 13 Nov 2024, 19:47, edited 1 time in total.

EVPRAKSIYA M. Y. VINOGRADOVA

❝The devil's voice is sweet to hear❞

xxx

STA 7 │ EVA 10 │ STR 0 │ WIS 8 │ ARC 5 │ ACC 10

LOVELY CREATURE

Second year, Gryffindor

12 Nov 2024, 02:40

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⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ | Oh God This Loser Lesbian | ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

1:24 ─────────────────────────●──────────────────────────── -2:56

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

Caught. So, SO unbelievably caught. Sandy froze in place, the anxious actions stilling to an almost deafening pause, breath caught in her throat. She was never one to be scared, especially not of someone she didn't know, but this felt so... Personal? Like she was entering someone's house without permission, seeing their secrets. Maybe she was just being weird, maybe she was being invasive. It was impolite to just barge in on someone pla-

-Holy shit.

Any possible thoughts vanished quickly after, braincells mushing into one collective thought. This girl, Sandy was certain, would be the swift death of her. Now, actually. With the sudden flash of heat and the shakiness of her knees, she was almost certain she was on the verge of death. This was not how she was supposed to feel, especially not just over being looked at.

Still, her gaze was kept locked on the other, eyes taking in as much as they possibly could. She was beautiful, scarily so. Finally able to get a proper look, it was almost too much to keep her eyes focused. Any details blurred together, of green eyes and light hair... She didn't know what to say, what she was allowed to say. Not like she'd be able to, either way. No matter how many things she could say, how many compliments she could watch spill from her mouth, she'd never have the confidence to say any of that to whoever this absolute goddess was.

Wait, what was she saying?

Swallowing down any stupid comments, Sandy forced her feet forward, raising a hand to scratch at the bridge of her nose just underneath the frame of her glasses. Most words were lost on her tongue, mouth dry as she fumbled around for anything competent to say. It was such an easy thing to do, to just make up some words and pretend she knew what she was saying, but... She just felt so - Silly?

"Uh- Uhm... Are you sure?" Sandy questioned, wetting her lips, "I'd hate to distract you... I just, you- I got caught up with the music, and I totally forgot that it's like, super inappropriate to uh..."

A pause, breathing in. Her thoughts were muffled, lost in the girl's eyes. Two shades, she thought, it was unusual. Breathtaking. Good lord, Sandy could spend her whole day just looking at them. By now, her steps had carried her close enough, trying her best to maintain composure. She could see the musician clearly now, and it was almost too much to just be in the general vicinity of her. She had felt overwhelmed by other girls before, struck by little details and how they acted, but this was so much more. Perhaps she had just not seen the right ones, had not taken how they were.

Any recollection of what she had been saying before was quickly lost on her, dropping the hand that scratched at her nose to instead dig into her opposite wrist. A silent command to focus.

"Your playing was beautiful. I-I mean, it's a nice change from my brother's punk music, and you just... I really can't put it into words. I've never been good with that. I just, uhm, you were amazing. I'd say sorry for eavesdropping, but it's impossible to do that if you're playing. Can- Can you really blame me?"

2:50 ────────────────────────────────────────────────────●─ -2:56

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

INTERACTING: @Evpraksiya Vinogradova

Evpraksiya Vinogradova

Third year, Duellist, Writer, Slytherin

15 Nov 2024, 03:48

Image posted by the member

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2024. 10. 3.| @Sandy Thompson....

xxxxxxxx𝕾vpraksiya once had a bird.

On a biting winter’s morning, the silence of Evpraksiya’s room had been disrupted by a flicker of yellow feathers, a soft, delicate rustling. One of the staff had left the room's window open by accident, a slip of the mind, and then in the bright light of dawn perched a small canary, vivid as a sunbeam against the cold, winter morning. Nadezdha upon Evpraksiya presenting the unexpected visitor to her and asking to keep it, arched a brow but smiled, indulgent. She allowed Evpraksiya to keep the bird in her music room, calling it their ❝family bird.❞ It became a curious presence in the quiet, flitting between the piano and the shelves, bringing warmth to the room that Evpraksiya now treasured even more deeply.

It was a pretty insipid thing, the bright yellow canary. She was told that it most certainly wasn't native to Russia, much less the affluent street of St. Petersburg where they lived. Not that the younger Evpraksiya had cared for rarity back then. Instead, she was fascinated by the fluffy, bright feather's that seemed to almost glow in the backdrop of the sunlight coming in through gothic window it was placed against. Nadezhda had said that the silhouette of the intricate golden cage looked pretty, casting long dragged-out shadows onto the youngest's music room floor at the hours of sundown and rise.

Ev agreed, the bird didn't need to be able to fly in order to sing so what was the harm in keeping it in it's cage? It had all the food and water it would ever want. It never had to worry about warmth or shelter and she was there everyday practicing her own song alongside the bird to keep it company so it never had to worry about being lonely.

but still, day by day, it's song grew more and more quiet and Ev, more and more desperate to find a solution. She gave it different food but the only thing that ever accomplished was the idiotic bird refuse to eat altogether. She tried adding different toys to its cage but it seemed actively afraid of the plastic. That seemed rather counterproductive to the child Evpraksiya. What were the toy manufacturers thinking, making a toy for whom it's recipient would be afraid of?

Regardless of all Evpraksiya's attempts the bird had curled up into itself and wouldn't sing again. The girl relented then, taking it to Tatiana and begging her to save the small creature. Her sister was smart, her sister would fix this, she thought. Tatiana sighed the harsh sigh she always did lately and made a beckoning motion at the birdcage Evpraksiya held.

❝Give it here Yulasha.❞

❝Will the bird be okay Tanechka? I don't want it give it away and Nadezhda said that it was okay being in the cage...❞

❝Course I will but the damned bird isn't going to heal of a broken heart by itself, gotta give it companionship you know? Make it happy so it doesn't wanna fly away? Baba yaga- why the hell did you listen to Nadezhda on these things? You know she isn't good at taking care of hum- animals.❞

Evpraksiya looked away from her sister's piercing gaze and to the floor. She bit back her kneejerk admonishment, mother and father wouldn't like the informal language Tatiana used but Nadezhda wouldn't care at all. Not when it came to Tatiana. Evpraksiya hesitated over it for a second more before she silently handed over the equally silent bird. ❝But she takes care of us, doesn't she? Nadezhda knows how to help people.❞

Tatiana didn't say anything back but they were standing in her wing of the house. Not Nadezhda's and that was answer enough.

❝...Stop worrying about the bird Yulasha. It'll be fine. Now- go to Ulyana okay? Do some normal kid shit, go invite Conrad over or something.❞

As Evpraksiya looked at the seemingly equally flighty girl— Sandy wasn't it?— she was awfully reminded of that same bird. A Gryffindor, from her robes, but— what how similar she was, caught on the precipice of her own breath, her entire frame small and trembling in the light. Her classmate Sandy, with her unruly blond hair falling across her face as the songbird's feathers had at occasional times. A child of young careless summer— her skin tanned by open air and sun, eyes big behind glasses, not unlike the little bird that had flown in through the open window by mistake.

Yes, that was the impression Evpraksiya got from the girl. A bird’s heart fluttering against its brittle bones, waiting to be seized, examined, perhaps— admired. Was her pulse racing in fright or anticipation? Evpraksiya wondered. And how interesting that was, Evpraksiya mused, that such a alike creature had found her during this time? Fate had amusing ways of weaving its web and while often did the Youngest Vinogradova grimace at the mechanisms of destiny, she didn't so much mind it time. Not when it brought her someone so new and interesting but so eerily similar to her past.

Could Ev count that as two birds drawn in by her music now? Perhaps she could be like that one witch who summoned animals by playing her lute.

It was in this space, then, this solemn and consecrated chamber, the piano between them like some ebony altar—yes, it was precisely that. An altar to song and she, the priestess alone in her devotions—that Evpraksiya observed the girl, took her in, with a clinical, yet fascinated eye. She let the silence unfold, stretching it as one might stretch a thread in the air, held taut and glimmering if only to see what Sandy would do.

The smallest tilt of her head, then, a movement as subtle as a leaf turning under the slightest breeze, as she addressed Sandy, moving up from her seat at the piano and stalking smoothly towards the girl to meet her at where she stood.

“Oh yes,” Evpraksiya began, her voice lilting like the song she'd played itself, rising and falling in a gentle melody that seemed to drift through the air, ❝I wouldn't fault anyone for listening and it's a rather lonely thing, playing for no one but oneself. The music always seems to disappear far too quick— dissolves into the air like mist over a pond if we were to be poetic.❞ Here, her eyes glinted with a particularly fanatic light- or perhaps just catching the faint light from the window, ❝But when shared, it lives on for a little bit longer. And I certainly have no qualms about sharing with you.❞

How to describe her? Evpraksiya, in her own silent way, took in each detail: the hand that fumbled toward her nose, brushing under those large, round glasses; the slight stammer, the quivering hesitance that was so unlike the polished, rehearsed grace she had come to expect from those who she usually associated with, the grace she had herself perfected through years of instruction and expectation was nowhere to be found in Sandy. This girl— this odd, endearing creature— was no such performance. She was raw, a patchwork of blunders and unrehearsed awe.

It was charming.

❝Yes,❞ she murmured, softer now, her tone a gentle ripple over the still air, as if coaxing a skittish animal. ❝so it’s impossible to eavesdrop, really. Music has a way of making one feel invited, doesn’t it? Everyone always has their own interpretations.❞ She let the words drift, as she heard Sandy's own.

She tilted her head at the mention of the word, "punk". From the way Sandy spoke of her brother's love for it, it appeared to be a Musical genre? Silently, Evpraksiya mourned not having the chance to appreciate more musical genres at a younger age but why would she need such when classical already encompassed so much of her life?

❝Do you know the piece, then?❞ Evpraksiya asked, knowing well the answer but delighting in Sandy's expressive reactions. She waited for a beat before continuing. ❝It's Franz Liszt’s Liebestraum, his ‘Dream of Love’— a rather melancholy title, wouldn't you say?❞ Her voice grew softer, her gaze drifting, not away from Sandy, but through the girl almost. Although looking at the girl, she clearly was not seeing her. Sacremento gaze going through the walls, through the very stones of Hogwarts itself, and out into some boundless, unknowable expanse where thoughts had the luxury to lay and ruminate on themselves. ❝Considering how it'd been composed based on his dear friend's poem,❞ she murmured, almost to herself, ❝It was based off the ideal that love was something one could only dream of, rather than possess. Trite sentiments.❞ Ev sighed.

Then, with a slight inclination of her head, she said, in a soft voice, ❝So come closer please? Play your own or try to. Music shouldn't be heard from such a distance.❞ She extended a hand, delicate and deliberate, her gaze steady, inviting, as if daring Sandy to bridge the space between them. ❝After all, what is a dream of love if there is no one there to hear it?❞

Sandy was so alike the lovely songbird and Evpraksiya as interested right now as she was with the bird back then. But the Slytherin wasn't particularly known for repeating her mistakes.

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OOC: HELPPP WHY IS EV LIKE THIS???

EVPRAKSIYA M. Y. VINOGRADOVA

❝The devil's voice is sweet to hear❞

xxx

STA 7 │ EVA 10 │ STR 0 │ WIS 8 │ ARC 5 │ ACC 10

LOVELY CREATURE

Second year, Gryffindor

15 Nov 2024, 04:58

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⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ | Not As Much Homosexuality As Possible. ;( | ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

1:24 ─────────────────────────●──────────────────────────── -2:56

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

Sandy couldn't do this. Sandy really, really couldn't do this. It was terrifying, to be almost... Examined. Her heartrate picked up, speeding to the time of the loud thrumming in her ears. Quick, such an aggressive sound against every single thought she had. Silently, the hand that dug against her wrist pressed harder, feeling her racing pulse against her fingertips. So embarrassing... She couldn't be making a fool out of herself already.

Of course, unknown to her, Sandy was already doing that. Every single time she told herself to focus, to engage in something other than her own thoughts, they all trailed back to her. She wanted nothing more than to crumple into a little ball on the floor, allow the ground to swallow her whole so she didn't have to deal with this. How long had it been since she had felt so stupid? Not very long, maybe during the summer, but that was only around Danny. It was terrible, to feel vulnerable in front of someone she didn't know, let alone recognize fully. Maybe it was her sight playing with her again, or maybe this girl was too blinding that Sandy would need a new prescription sooner than later.

Dragging her clammy hands away from her wrist, using her thumb to wipe off the damp sweat, she thought long and hard about what she had been saying. It all dumbed down into one meek thought of how pretty her voice was, soothing in all the right ways. She wanted nothing more than to listen to this girl talk forever, to sit in silence just to admire every single word and hang off of it.

Was that too forward? She wasn't sure. She didn't really talk to other girls. Or think about other girls. Or interact with other girls at all. Her aunt Brit would be disappointed.

A small, faraway giggle sounded from her throat, cut off quickly by a fake cough, "Yeah, mhm. It- It's so pretty, and then it's just- Poof. Gone... I- uh, I can't say I'm an expert with that though! Most of the music I listen to- It's always on repeat, I can't sit in silence, or still. It's- It's a process, I don't know-" Sandy cut herself off around then, voice leading off into nothing. Who was she to talk about this stuff to a musician? A talented, beautiful, absurdly put-together musician....

"No q-qualms... Mm..." She repeated, a whisper to herself. A small note was jotted in her head to look up what that word meant. She couldn't seem entirely stupid in front of her either way... That'd just be ruining a good first impression... Sandy hadn't had a good friend who was a girl in a long while...

Sandy, promptly shoving herself back into reality from the small dreamland state she had made up, imagining a possible friendship between them, tried to think of a smart reply to her whispering. She was just thinking, was all. No stupidity there. Absolutely none. Stupid? Never heard of 'er. Distantly, she thought about a few more puns before even remembering what her objective was, too busy mentally giggling about her newest creations.

"I wouldn't say invited," Sandy mumbled, "More like- Barged in without a second thought and got too scared to go any closer. Not that you're- Scary. You're just super pretty, and I really, really don't know how to talk to pretty girls. It's not your fault! I just- There was music, there was you, I couldn't really, um, properly make a plan without seeming like a weirdo anyways, yeah?"

Oh Dear God. Who let her talk. Ever. This should be the highest form of humiliation, a torture method used for death row criminals. Not for her.

Chewing on the inside of her lip to keep herself quiet, she chose to respond with a tilted head at the mention of the piece. Nobody in her family really listened to classical music, let alone... Something something love? Maybe her uncle Sam, but he was out on another one of his longterm camping trips, and probably wouldn't be back for a long while...

Rather than understanding half of the things the pianist said, Sandy tried her best to keep a stone face, aside the dorky smile that occasionally appeared as she listened to the long monologue. Not that she was complaining about listening, but it really was a lengthy description of a song... Especially one with such a monotone meaning. Love was nowhere near something of a dream, apparent everywhere, even now. Even she knew that, with her limited knowledge of which shoe to put on the right foot some days. Love was everywhere, carved in stone and found in the engraved initials in benches, even in the piano the girl played. Maybe she was overthinking it, it was just a song, but- She just didn't see why people wrote things like that.

Caught up in her own thoughts, far too distant from reality to fully clock in to what was happening, Sandy took the hand out of sheer muscle memory. It was like crossing the road with her mother when she was way smaller, an easy action. She held on for a few seconds, waiting to come down from whatever rant she had spiraled into, realizing quickly what she had agreed to. Her hand was so unlike the other's, damp with sweat and so absurdly rough that she didn't even want to think about it. But her's... Now, Sandy hadn't held hands with anyone in- A while, now. Danny would never do that, especially not around his friends, and her own friend selection was rather limited... Family would, she was sure, but the lifetime of mockery that came with it didn't quite feel worth it.

"That's-" Sandy paused with a laugh, shaking her head with such a passion that her glasses almost came off with it, "A terrible idea. I can hardly keep a steady walking pace, let alone- Play music. I don't think I've ever tried-... I wouldn't want to torture you with that."

Still, she stepped forward on uneasy legs, anxiously careful to not trip over her own feet even with these minimal steps. Shaky, disgustingly so, but she pressed forward. After all, who was she to deny a pretty girl of anything? Especially not one who had been so sweet to her so far...

2:50 ────────────────────────────────────────────────────●─ -2:56

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

INTERACTING: @Evpraksiya Vinogradova

Evpraksiya Vinogradova

Third year, Duellist, Writer, Slytherin

16 Nov 2024, 08:15

Image posted by the member

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2024. 10. 3.| @Sandy Thompson

.

xxxxxxxx𝕾vpraksiya found this whole ordeal really rather amusing. She couldn't exactly understand why the girl was acting so strangely (though she had more than a few suspicions) but nonetheless, her behavior was terribly amusing. The trembling hands, the words she spoke so shakily, and the adorable way she made her way towards Evpraksiya regardless. It was almost like watching a baby seal flap around in water, or perhaps in this case, a canary on its first flight. Although, Evpraksiya couldn't remember her more literal canary ever sweating as much as this girl did. It- it was a tad bit concerning, medical issues she was ill-equipped to deal with, and more than once had she been forced to do so lately by certain red-headed classmates.

She let her fingers close more tightly around Sandy’s, ignoring the dampness and the faint tremor that came with it. Sandy’s hand was rough, unlike her own, callused not by piano keys nor violin strings but by something else altogether judging from the positioning of the calluses. It was a strange contrast of grit to her own hand, calluses long faded away to delicately honed smoothness.

She held on to Sandy’s hand a moment longer, ignoring the sweat and tremor with deliberate ease. It was as if she were inspecting it for hidden secrets, her fingers pressing lightly against Sandy’s roughened palms, a kind of contrast that she found oddly intriguing. There was something genuine in those calluses and Evpraksiya had the sudden, inexplicable urge to dig beneath it, to find out more about this girl who seemed so ready to trip over her own words in front of her.

Ah but, that'd be terribly rude for a first meeting and she supposed she'd already monologed enough for one encounter.

❝Oh, I don’t think I mind the ‘torture',❞ Evpraksiya replied, her voice sliding into that careful, lilting tone she used when toying with something that interested her. ❝After all, music isn’t so much about perfection, but the attempt, the reaching for something. Don’t you think?❞ She gave a half-smile, a hint of teasing, as though daring Sandy to think about it, to consider the notion that music could be something less demanding than perfection and more a series of attempts, stumbles, missteps that somehow became a melody all their own.

With an arch of her brow, Evpraksiya led Sandy to the piano, humming lightly as she observed every hesitant step, her eyes catching every nervous glance. She felt a faint thrill at the discomfort, at Sandy’s clear unease, and the way she grappled to find words. It was rare, seeing someone so completely thrown off, as if the rehearsal room itself had transformed into some strange, daunting space. There was something satisfying in that, in being the cause of another’s intrigue and discomfort, and she allowed herself a flicker of amusement as they neared the bench.

The room stretched in stillness, vast yet cloistered, the golden light pooling over the piano’s lacquered surface, catching edges of tension and tremor. Evpraksiya sat poised, deliberate, watching this girl—this odd, nervous creature—as though she were a puzzle left tantalizingly incomplete. She did not speak immediately. Silence, after all, was the sharpest blade, carving pathways for thought, exposing all that lay beneath the surface. It was in this quiet she studied Sandy, the way her hands fidgeted like restless birds, alighting on her wrist only to retreat again, her gaze darting anywhere but forward, her very presence an apology writ large.

Once they reached the piano, Evpraksiya released Sandy’s hand slowly, almost reluctantly, her fingers trailing softly across Sandy’s rougher ones before slipping away. The piano awaited them, gleaming and dark, a silent, towering presence in the room. Evpraksiya’s hands found the familiar places on the keys, but this time, she didn’t play, not yet. Instead, she looked up at Sandy with a small, inviting smile.

❝Here.❞ She gestured to the bench beside her, a quiet invitation for Sandy to sit. ❝I know it may not be what you’re used to, but I think you’ll find something beautiful in it if you give it a chance.❞ Her words came gently, almost conspiratorially, as if sharing a secret she’d long kept hidden. ❝Just place your hands here,❞ she said, guiding Sandy’s hand gently to the keys, allowing her fingertips to rest on the cool ivory, barely pressing.

Once Sandy lowered herself onto the bench, Evpraksiya eased herself beside her, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. The piano loomed before them, dark and gleaming, its keys a path neither of them fully knew where would lead. Evpraksiya’s hands hovered over the keys, but she did not play. Instead, she turned, her gaze fixed intently on Sandy’s face, as though searching for something just beneath the surface.

❝Playing music is rarely about having everything perfect and certainly not expected of people new to the art.❞ she continued, her voice dropping to a murmur, eyes intent on Sandy’s face. ❝It’s more about what you make of it. So don’t worry—you can’t ruin anything.❞

Well at the very least, Sandy would have nothing to be concerned over. Evpraksiya on the other hand... but that was different of course. She had people to impress unlike the (likely?) muggleborn who certainly didn't seem accustomed to playing at all, never mind in front of a live audience for a pureblood gala.

Her eyes flickered to Sandy’s face, her gaze lingering as she watched Sandy take in the moment, that mix of fear and awe that Evpraksiya recognized, that particular expression she’d seen in others many times. And yet, somehow, it felt different here, more potent, more significant, perhaps because it wasn’t about music alone. ❝You know, I believe everyone is capable of making something beautiful, even if they don’t believe it themselves,❞ she continued, her voice barely above a whisper, her words barely brushing the air between them.

She released Sandy’s hand, her touch lingering a second longer than necessary. ❝So try it, even if it’s merely for a note or two.❞

──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

OOC: All actions of Sandy written in this post have been okay'ed by sandy's writer.

EVPRAKSIYA M. Y. VINOGRADOVA

❝The devil's voice is sweet to hear❞

xxx

STA 7 │ EVA 10 │ STR 0 │ WIS 8 │ ARC 5 │ ACC 10

LOVELY CREATURE

Second year, Gryffindor

17 Nov 2024, 06:16

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⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ | Using That 1 Wis. | ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

1:24 ─────────────────────────●──────────────────────────── -2:56

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

This seat was uncomfortable.

Sandy wasn't one to complain about things necessarily. She had always been relatively easy in that way. She wasn't a picky eater, she never argued with what people said... Her mother taught her that way, said to be grateful for everything she had because some people didn't have it, but was that true? Taking things so easily, as though they were natural just because other people didn't have the same opportunity? Was it a good thing to take the discomfort when she could be enjoying herself more in other places?

She wasn't uncomfortable, though. Not as much as she could be. It was overstimulating, more like. The shoulder pressed against her, that burning feeling of touch from where her hand had formerly been held so carefully. It didn't feel careful though, now did it? Careful was like balancing on a tightrope, like holding someone in your arms and making sure they were safe as you'd walk. This was different. Careful like holding a blade, trying to cut along the lines of a patient while you watched them struggle. She didn't like how she watched her, but she couldn't quite look away.

"Can't ruin anything." Sandy repeated, rolling the words around over her tongue. That was a lie, wasn't it? Something to ease her into playing, to make fun of her afterwards. More than versed in lies, in coaxing words with malicious intent, Sandy didn't want to trust it. Such a clash of interest, how badly she wanted to do everything this girl said at the simple drop of an order, yet the concern that this would end poorly if she did. She was too young to be this concerned about if other people were lying to her about their intentions.

"I..." She started, fingers hardly touching the keys before promptly being dropped into her lap, "I don't think I can. I'm sorry."

There was a moment of silence, chewing on her lip. The skin was raw, sore with how often she had repeated this same action over and over again, "It's a lot different for you to say, you know? Perfection, making something beautiful out of nothing. You're skilled with this. You- You know how this works, I don't. It's so much easier for you to say because you can do that, and I can't."

It was like word vomit, an output of words that she didn't quite clearly understand in her brain before they exited. Her eyes dragged over to look at the musician, refusing to meet her own gaze, instead staring somewhere at the tip of her nose. Anywhere but her eyes. She didn't want to be a disappointment at the first meeting, after all. Not again.

"I wish I was able to."

A half-hearted smile, fingers moving to press at her eyes under her glasses momentarily until colours speckled her vision. Until it felt like deliberate pain.

"I've never really been... Skilled with anything, like you are. Perfection- Bah, a stupid title, but... Something I've wanted, you know? I guess I just want something to brag about, something of my own that someone can't take from me. It's kinda difficult when you're in a family of people who already made their own thing theirs, but..." A pause with a breath, shaking her head with a passion that almost shook her glasses from their spot on her nose, "Nevermind. It's stupid, yeah? Just... Talking to talk. I get scared around people like you. Perfect, I guess."

Sandy finally looked away, back to the keys. It was a daunting task, something that tensed her shoulders. She was so carefree just a moment ago, willing to do whatever, but now she was in the moment and she didn't... Want that anymore. She didn't want to do this, to make a fool out of herself for no reason only to regret it later. With how many times she had done that before, it was a habit. A curse, almost.

"Do you think like that? It's- It's a personal question, isn't it? I- Hell, I don't even remember your name. I just need to know more about you. You seem so put together when it comes to this stuff, sweet, and I just can't wrap my head around it. That can't be all there is to you, surely?" Sandy took yet another breath, sharp and quick as she continued barreling on, "I don't think I've ever wanted to know about someone like that- It feels so invasive, doesn't it? Hah, who needs icebreakers when you have puzzles to fit together."

Dragging a hand up to the keys, resting her fingers against them with an unease that she hadn't quite experienced in a while, she tried to redirect her attention. She was thinking too much, spiraling. Her momma had always been so good with refocusing her, making her pay attention to the other things, but she just couldn't. Her mind was everywhere at once, and she just wanted to make this girl know that she had her focus. What a task, wasn't it?

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be too much. My brother- He says I'm overwhelming. I've just never really had someone talk to me like you do, I guess? Danny, my boyfriend- He... He doesn't really say much like that, that I won't ruin anything. I always feel like he thinks that, but he doesn't say. You... You said it right off the bat. Like it's not an issue to you. People... Don't treat me that way. It's silly, isn't it?"

2:50 ────────────────────────────────────────────────────●─ -2:56

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

INTERACTING: @Evpraksiya Vinogradova